Changing Tides and Teardrops
by NatNazzy
Summary: Post 2X15 "Revelations" Spencer has called to say goodbye. Will our OFC make it to him in time? And perhaps lay the foundations for something new? The beginnings of something wonderful? ONESHOT. Terrible summary for my first story. Mentions of drug abuse.


**Changing Tides and Teardrops**

**A/N: I've known about FanFiction for two years now, and have yet to muster up the courage to publish anything. Finally, I've decided to test the waters with this meek little oneshot and would love to hear what you guys think. I have a bunch of ideas swirling around in my head :D I would love constructive criticism, but please no flames! I might cry. Haha, kidding, but anyway hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: When I dwell too long on the fact that I don't own Criminal Minds I get legitimately depressed. So let me say it quickly. I don't own Criminal Minds. I do own my OFC, even though she doesn't even have a name.**

The call didn't provide much detail, but it was enough to let me know that my intuition was correct. He quite obviously was _not _okay; the hopeless lilt to his voice causing my heart to plummet yet beat at a thousand miles a minute all at the same time.

Hastily, I grabbed my car keys. He didn't have to say it; I knew he was saying goodbye.

Arriving at his apartment building I took the stairs two at a time. Without even hesitating at his door to knock I barged through the threshold, barely registering the fact that it was unlocked. _Was that him trying to make it easier for us when we found him? Was it a well-thought out goodbye?_

It didn't matter either way. I had found him now and that was all that counted.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, clothes dishevelled and his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I noticed the needle and vial lying next to him on the bed and my stomach dropped. I'd had my suspicions but now, I _knew._

Hesitantly, I walked up to him, careful to make enough noise so that he became aware of my presence but not too startled by it. He'd been through enough already.

"Spencer." I murmured.

He didn't look up.

I knelt in front of him and gently placed my hands on his knees, right in front of where he was resting his elbows, cradling his head. Slowly, I leaned forward. I wanted to make eye contact with him.

He moved his hands from his face and clasped them together in front of him. Despite the fact that he now looked down at me, his clasped hands remained purposefully between us, reminding me of the barrier that he was trying to create.

His face was pale and gaunt, but more worrying than that was the tell-tale sheen of sweet gracing his brow and the slight trembling that seemed to dominate his too-thin frame.

Withdrawal.

And in that moment, I knew how proud I was of him.

My eyes skirted to the crook of his elbow, where the black and bruised evidence of his pain lay, and he bowed his head in shame.

"I'm disgusting." He whispered.

Finally, my heart stopped beating and broke. He was the most beautiful, unique, selfless and strong person that I had ever known and he saw none of it. He was so utterly convinced that he didn't deserve to be saved, that he deserved the torment thrust upon him by a delusional and mentally ill man. I had put up with a lot of things when it came to Spencer Reid, but I drew the line here. He was too special to allow himself to be destroyed and I was determined to prove it to him.

Without a second thought I grasped his face in both my palms and his eyes met mine for nothing more than a moment before he closed them again, lowering his head as he did so – allowing two small droplets to fall from his eyes and onto my outstretched arms.

I knew he was startled by my actions as I did them, but I also found that I didn't have it within me to care. This was something I had wanted to do for a while now and I liked to believe that Spencer had wanted it too. His addiction had merely been the catalyst for a greater experiment; the timing had never been more perfect.

Slowly, I brought his face down to mine and reached out to kiss his forehead. I lingered there for only a moment before moving on; kissing his cheekbone and then the tears that rested upon them. I trailed down to his jawbone and traced the defined line until I reached his lips.

Time seemed to stand still, and to my disappointment, nothing happened.

I was about to pull away, dismayed at his lack of response, but at the last moment he reached forward, grabbing my arm before cupping either side of my face and stilling me for something decidedly deeper.

I don't know how long it lasted. I was so consumed by everything that was Spencer that nothing but his lips on mine, his tongue dancing against my own and the feel of his tears, falling freely now against my cheeks, registered in my mind.

Mutually, we broke away. I was still kneeling on the floor when I pulled him towards me, embracing him in the tightest hug I think I have ever given to any human being in my entire life.

His breath, no, his sobs echoed against my neck. Tickling my skin and causing my hair to flutter about my cheeks but still, I held him. For how long, I do not know.

But it was his whispered plea of "please stay" reverberating off of the base of my neck that had me realizing that it would, more than likely, be a long, long time.

I couldn't help but smile at that.

The tides in our relationship had changed, and we both knew that we were changing with it.


End file.
